River of Love

At first, the surface of the river
throws your face right back at you
and your sky and your clouds
it tosses back your way,
as if to tease and say, go away
it will seem shallow at first regard
silly and fun and free and flirting
the surface of this river

but you might follow it down
and it might bend and play with you
and light will slice it
and show you parts of fish
and rocks and things
and the surface opens slightly

and you might follow it further
and the sun will cut holes in its watery silk
to reveal sunshine below, melting like butter
at the river bed and how cozy a bed it is
in its welcoming depths
and the surface is now inviting

and you might have turned away
but instead chased it and
even walked in, just to feel
its current and wetness
and rushing power and now
the surface is no longer shy

and you are in the river
and in awe of it
and bow to its depths
and its undercurrents
and its history
and its darkness
and its shining light
and its silent love
of you and trees and sky and rocks
and the surface pulls you in
and you go to it,
gather it up like thick silver silk around you
wrap yourself in it, a shiny mantle of deep care.